This Is a Book (22 page)

“You weren’t there. You don’t know.”

“George, this is your typical pattern. You claim you want to be in a committed relationship, but you always fall for women you
can’t have. Remember the Japanese tourist you met at the airport? Then there was the newlywed you saw leaving the church. And then Lori, who always told you she wanted to travel. And now this Sheila, who is either dead or worse, imaginary.”

“She is not imaginary!”

“Either way, it’s unhealthy. You need to forget about her and try to date someone who is available and alive. Stop worrying about finding a soul mate and just try to find a date.”

Sheila wa eating lunch with her best friend, Erin. They’d been friends since death.

“What were you doing at Arrivals?” Erin asked.

Arrivals was typically where dead spouses and random opportunists hung out, waiting to be reunited with the recently deceased or to sell them maps to homes of the dead stars.

“I was just walking by. I was running errands in the area.”

“So this guy just happened to be arriving as you walked by?”

“Yeah. It was really romantic. We made eye contact, and the next thing I knew we were deep in conversation. He was really sweet and just…
different
than a lot of the guys up here.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, he just seemed so…”—Sheila searched for the words—“… so full of life.”

Erin laughed. “Well, that’s no surprise. The guy had just died. I know it’s charming, but let me tell you, that doesn’t last. I once dated a guy who’d just died. At first it was great. But then, after a couple of months, the novelty of it wore off, and then he was just another dead guy like every other guy around here.”

“But this was different.”

Erin could see how excited Sheila was, so she tried to seem interested. “So, then what happened?” she asked.

“Well, we were talking and laughing, really connecting, and then out of nowhere he started to float backwards. And then he was gone.”

“Oh,” Erin replied.

“What do you mean ‘Oh’?”

“I mean ‘Oh’ as in ‘Oh, he’s gone.’ They took him back.”

Sheila looked puzzled.

“Back to his life,” explained Erin.

“What?”

“I’m sorry to tell you this, sweetie, but this George guy is back on Earth. You won’t see him again until he dies again.”

Sheila didn’t want to believe it, but she knew Erin was right. Erin knew a lot about life. She had been obsessed with it ever since she died.

Sheila was disappointed. She really liked George. And, even though they had only spoken for a few minutes, she knew they had real chemistry. But she also knew there was no way to date a living person, so she tried to forget about George and get on with the rest of her afterlife.

About a week later, Sheila’s phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hi. Is Sheila there?”

“This is Sheila.’s this?”

“My name is Stew. I work over in Visitation. I understand you’re interested in someone on Earth.”

“Well, um, yes, I was. I mean I guess I am but… wait, how did you get my number?”

“I’m a friend of Larry’s. He is seeing your friend Dianne. Erin told her about your recent encounter. I think I can help you.”

The next day Sheila met Stew for coffee. He explained that if she really wanted to see George, she could visit him on Earth by obtaining a visa.

“How do I get a visa?” asked Sheila.

“Well, there are two options. The first is reincarnation. I don’t recommend that though, because it’s risky. You could end up as a lizard or a dog or some sort of insect. Plus, even if you’re lucky
enough to become a person, there will be a pretty big age difference to deal with once you get there.”

“What’s the other option?”

Stew took a sip of his coffee. “The other option is that you go as a ghost.”

Sheila thought for a moment. She wanted to see George again, but as a ghost? “Ghosts are scary,” she thought. “And on top of that, I’m not a night person.” On the other hand, dating had not been going well. And she couldn’t stop thinking about George.

Stew continued. “All you need is some unfinished business. I can help you submit a proper request, and then, if it’s approved, you’ll be able to visit Earth as a ghost with an unfinished business visa.”

“Hm,” said Sheila. “Well, what qualifies as unfinished business?”

“Unfinished business is usually solving a murder or helping to solve a murder, or… well, it’s pretty much just stuff involving murders.”

“I see,” said Sheila, disappointed. “I guess I don’t qualify then.”

“Well, not necessarily. That’s where I can help you. I have a friend in the department. He can put together the paperwork. It’ll take some favors, but if you’ve got the money, I think I can get you that visa.”

Two weeks later George was brushing his teeth when he heard a strange noise. He figured it was the wind and shrugged it off. Then it came again. He walked into his living room. There, next to his coffee table, he saw a strange light shooting around the room.

“Hellooooo, George,” said the light, trying its best not to sound spooky.

“Oh my God,” said George. “What do you want?”

“It’s meeee, Sheila,” replied the ghost.

George looked closer. It was Sheila. She looked different, more see-through and kind of pale, but it was her.

“Jesus. What happened to you? Are you okay?”

“Yeeeeees, George, I’m fine. I’m a ghost. I came to visit youuuuu.”

“Wow. Sheila. I thought I’d never see you again.”

“Meeee toooo,” she replied.

George invited Sheila to sit down, and she did her best to, floating just above the chair. They started to talk, picking up right where they’d left off, connecting in the same effortless way they had done two weeks earlier.

Despite her initial ghoulish appearance, Sheila looked great. She explained that those longer vowels that rang out when she spoke were not intentional. It was a side effect of being a ghost.

“It’s sort of built into the ghost speech mechanism,” she explained. “I guess to make haunting easier.”

With a little practice, Sheila was able to minimize the effect. Although, every now and then she would say “boo” without warning. George took it in stride. They talked and laughed and shared stories all night. And before they knew it, it was morning. As the sun rose, George walked Sheila to the door.

“I had so much fun tonight,” Sheila said, glowing demurely.

“Me toooooo,” responded George.

Sheila laughed.

“When can I see you again?” asked George.

“Well, tomorrow I have to visit some people involved with a murder, because of my visa, but I’m free the next night.”

“Great,” said George. “It’s a date.”

Two nights later, Sheila was back in George’s apartment. Again, they stayed up talking, hours passing like minutes, each of them finishing each other’s sentences. George made tea for Sheila. It went right through her. They laughed about it. Then Sheila inhabited one of George’s throw pillows and danced around with it. She challenged him to a pillow fight. As they jousted with pillows they had trouble catching their breath from laughing so hard, and also, in Sheila’s case, from being inside a pillow.

Sheila came by every night for the next week. And every night she and George stayed up and explored their own magical little world. Nothing else seemed to matter.

George asked Sheila to be his girlfriend. She said yes. And that night they kissed for the first time. It took a little bit of effort, but they managed to do it.

At first George didn’t tell anyone about Sheila. He knew people would have trouble understanding. But he couldn’t hide his happiness. He was falling in love and he needed to tell someone.

“I’m seeing Sheila,” he told his therapist.

“Sheila? What do you mean?”

“You remember Sheila. I met her when I was dead. She’s been visiting me, as ast.”

His therapist sighed. “George, do you really believe you’re dating a ghost?”

“
Dating
a ghost? I’m sleeping with her.”

George’s therapist choked on his Diet Sprite. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, she floats on top of me, and—”

“Okay,” interrupted his therapist. “You know what? I think we should just leave it there.”

“But—”

“Sorry, George. It looks like we’re out of time,” he said with a concerned look in his eye and a little bit of soda in his beard. “I’m not really qualified to deal with this sort of thing. Try to get some rest.”

George knew he wasn’t crazy, but judging from his therapist’s reaction, he decided it would be best to keep his relationship with Sheila to himself for a while.

Sheila continued to visit George, usually at night. That was the best time to do so. He had to work days at his ad job, and it was a lot easier for him to see her at night, literally, because of the luminescence of her ghost body. Sheila split her time between seeing him and visiting people related to the murder case. She had to make
sure she stayed involved with the case or she risked being discovered by the Visa Department. It was a complicated case, which was a mixed blessing for Sheila. On the one hand, it ensured that she’d be able to stay on Earth for a while. On the other hand, it was getting tedious. Every time she haunted someone who was involved with the murder case, she had to deal with their typical, incredulous reactions to meeting a ghost, and then she’d have to answer a littany of questions about the homicide. She tried not to let it bother her, reminding herself that it was worth it to be with George. But it was starting to wear on her.

The next few months were the happiest of George’s life. He had found the perfect woman. She was smart, beautiful, sexy, and fun. And at the same time, she didn’t cramp his style. He still had his days to himself and plenty of nights to go out with his buddies when Sheila was off haunting a detective or visiting a witness.

Halloween was spectacular. George threw a big party. Everyone came. Sheila was a hit. It was a great way to ease his friends into meeting her. A couple of his more skeptical friends couldn’t see Sheila at first, but soon everyone met her and warmed up to her. As George’s friends started to know and accept Sheila, he started to think about asking her to be his wife.

Then, one afternoon, George heard a knock on his front door. When he opened the door, he found a man standing there with a somber look on his face.

“Hello. Are you George?”

“Yes, how can I help you?”

George had a bad feeling about this. He wondered if this man was one of the detectives Sheila had been haunting. Had something happened?

“I’m Mark.”

“Hi, Mark. What is this about?”

Mark sighed and looked at George. “I’m Sheila’s husband.”

George froze. He didn’t know what to say. “Are you a ghost?” asked George.

“No.”

“Oh.” George didn’t know if he should feel better or worse. He invited Mark in to talk.

They sat down at the kitchen table.

“Sheila never told me she was married,” explained George.

“I’m not surprised,” Mark replied.

George fixed Mark a drink and grabbed a club soda for himself. George was no longer drinking, thanks to Sheila. As Mark talked about Sheila and their marriage, George listened closely. But he was feeling so many emotions at once, it was hard for him to concentrate.

“How did you find me?” George asked.

“Well, I get in touch with Sheila from time to time, you know, through a psychic. The last few times I tried to contact her, one of her dead friends answered, saying things like ‘Oh, she just stepped out’ or ‘sorry, you just missed her!’ ”

George was still in shock. Mark continued.

“So, I started to get suspicious and asked my psychic if he could find out anything for me. For a little extra money he went through some of Sheila’s stuff, and—”

George interrupted. “Wait, ‘Went through some of her stuff’? You mean, up there?”

“Yeah,” Mark replied. “He’s a very good psychic. Anyway, when he was going through her stuff he found your name and address.”

George stared at his kitchen table and tried to digest everything Mark had told him.

“God, I don’t know what to say. I’m… I’m sorry.”

“Listen,” said Mark, “I’m not telling you what to do or anything. I just thought you should know what the situation was. I mean, it’s not like Sheila and I are still living together, obviously, but I still do have feelings for her, and as far as I could tell, we were still working things out.”

A few minutes later they shook hands and Mark left. George was devastated. “How could this be?” he thought. “Why hadn’t
she said anything?” George sat on his couch and stared at the wall until he fell asleep.

George awoke to find Sheila floating next to him on the couch. She was tired from visiting the brother-in-law of the murder victim. He always asked her difficult questions about the case and usually tried to photograph her. It always put her in a bad mood.